


Six Moons Full

by RadiatorfromSpace



Series: Itty-Bitty Loki & A Whole Lot of Thor [1]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Adult!Thor, Age Difference, Bastard Child, But Thor is also very Appreciative of how big with child his Itty-Bitty Brother is, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Kink, NSFW, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Sexual Tension, Size Difference, Teen Pregnancy, Teen Pregnancy Kink, Teenage!Kid Loki, Thor has a Smallness Size Kink and Loki is Le Tiny, Underage - Freeform, Very Briefly Intersex Loki, Virginity Loss Kink, loki is a little shit, size difference kink, unknown father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5315915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadiatorfromSpace/pseuds/RadiatorfromSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenage Loki returns to Asgard six moons full with child, leaving Thor's hitherto sterling self-control in shambles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Moons Full

**Author's Note:**

> I had this fic idea in the back of my head, but it wasn't until I was inspired by the brevity of the writing style and sexual tension of FILTH'S [FUZZ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4347542) that I finally was able to churn this fic out!
> 
> Thanks to [Umakoo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/pseuds/umakoo) for beta-reading!
> 
> It has come to my attention that some people ([Rocket](http://plethora-of-ferrets.tumblr.com)) think these one shots are related stories even though the series page indicates that they are unrelated shorts on topics w/ high overlap. So: They're not related stories, they just share themes. 
> 
> Rocket, you are an adorable, silly nugget. <3 :*

Freya stands with the All-Mother in the center of the room. Their palms hover side by side and face skyward, Freya's newborn child supported between them. A blessing ritual for the wanted child; Odr looks on from the closest ring of observers.

It is an unremarkable ceremony, save for Loki's return.

The Norns took pity on Thor; his adult life with his old brother characterized by the fear of not knowing where Loki was or when he would return, this time he has a preternatural sense of when Loki is near.

Thor's eyes move to the diminutive figure in the entryway. His heart feels lighter, gladdened by his presence.

But the vision of him when he draws closer is stunning; foreign; captivating. Mouth watering.

Loki draws up beside him and Thor should direct his eyes elsewhere.

“They see an illusion, brother,” Loki drawls, the _'you dunce'_ unspoken but assumed. “You are staring.”

Thor's hands tighten into fists. He had prided himself on his unblemished self-control throughout this second chance with his brother.

Unblemished. Perfect, unflawed, good, wholesome.

Someone got to Loki and made him _wholesome._

Except there is nothing moral about the delicious way his black tunic is stretched over his pregnant belly, or that someone got him with child when he could barely claim manhood.

Thor's eyes slide down Loki's changed form like condensation on a glass.

He always harbored the belief that Loki rivaled Freya in beauty.

He watches as Loki places his little hands in the small of his back and stretches for some relief from the child he carries.

Thor swallows thickly. There is no contest now.

~

The way of children is that one loves them when one has them. The way of brothers is that one loves them and never understands them. The way of temptation is to be persuaded, by oneself, without ever noticing.

Thor had plans to move on to Alfheim the day after. He does not.

Instead he works in the stables, helps train the Einherjar, enjoys his friends, sorts through the spoils of his quests and considers gifting the finer pieces to Loki.

In the end he decides otherwise; it seems overtly close to bribery.

~

The day is bright and the horses calm when Thor hammers new shoes onto a yearling.

His finger twitches; something imperceptible, an invisible thread lightly brushed miles away and he knows: He looks up to find a little figure in a black cloak approaching the stables through the gray mist and flurries.

If he squints, he can see the cloak was made for someone narrower than the wearer is at present.

Slender as a willow branch but his belly full with bastard. Thor's breeches grow tighter; he hammers nails into his yearling's hoof with mounting force.

When Loki begins to make interested chatter with a stablehand, Thor snorts.

Tiny. Little. _Too young._ Another nail. But certainly capable of acting the adult. Someone else got to him first.

Another nail.

He catches Loki watching him. His green eyes follow the sure, swift swing of his arm. Thor meets his gaze.

Pretty, little slut.

If Loki was about to address him, the words are lost to some sudden sensation deep inside; Loki's hands fly around his belly, framing it with his thin arms.

Transfixed, Thor drops his hammer; does not retrieve it until he realizes he has been noticed.

“Those eyes,” Thor comments mildly, “are going to get you into trouble.”

Loki draws the edges of his cloak closed over his stomach; they already have.

“Little Loki, why do you look at me that way? Say the word and I shall hunt him down.”

Loki heaves a sigh. “Then you still love me, to be my champion?”

“Aye, brother; I would do much for you.”

Loki stares at him, flurries melting on his lashes. His lips are tiny and flushed red.

He is flushed more healthfully than Thor has ever seen him.

~

He lingered too long on that thought and now he cannot sleep.

When he opens the windows, the night air makes his skin prickle. He walks onto the balcony and leans against the cool guardrail, watching two expecting ásynjur take turns about the courtyard garden by moonlight.

He follows them with his eyes, comparing their forms to Loki's. How many babes are in his brother's belly?

He is certain he could give Loki twins or triplets. And the sires of the God of Thunder would be large even in the womb.

His cock stirs at the thought of the former; throbs at the latter. He squeezes himself through his breeches.

Reborn Loki as yet only stands as high as Thor's sternum. Would he be able to walk?

His eyelids slide shut as he slips his hand beneath his breeches.

And Loki thinks his belly is heavy now.

~

As Thor rushes through the hallway to meet his friends this afternoon, the realization strikes him: he is still the only one permitted to see through Loki's illusion.

Little Loki wears no cloak today over his snug tunic; Thor cannot turn his gaze away, feeling much like a cow stuck in mud.

Thor turns and falls into step with him.

“How do you fare today, brother? Where are you off to?” he asks.

“To the baths,” Loki replies. “I am too sweaty for decent society.”

Thor knows this; the mere mention has his cock throbbing.

And then there is something in Loki's walk that is cheeky, self-assured: boastful of and hinting at his overflow of beauty; how access to it might become available with persuasion, or he might be feeling generous today.

Or he is seeing what he wishes to see; he has gained some wisdom in his years.

“The baths have stairs; I will assist,” Thor insists as though his cock isn't already hard and dripping.

Loki turns his nose up. “You will be the first to enter dottage, dear brother. I will be fine unaided.”

“You would call me an imposter if I did not obey sentiment,” Thor jests.

Loki smirks up at him.

“The selfless gentleman.”

~

It is almost as futile as attempting to conceal one's drunkenness.

It began as the heady warmth of anticipation as they approached the empty bathchamber, escalated while he watched Loki hold his belly as he stepped over the threshold. Now Loki is disrobing a few feet away and Thor is salivating enough to be embarrassed.

His mind is rather stuck on the image of Loki's hand cradling his belly. He instinctively likes seeing Loki's hands on his full womb, like the sheer yield of Thor's seed is almost too much for him.

It looks heavy, must _be_ heavy to one as small as Loki. There is a burning itch in his hands to discover just how it feels.

It is a relief when he realizes the flesh he grasps is only Loki's hand.

He feels Loki's eyes on him and he looks over at him, curious.

“Are you here to be a hero or not? You may help me with the stairs, _now,”_ Loki reminds him.

Thor steps forward and allows himself the view of Loki's trim back; after all, he must be looking if he is to prevent fall and injury. Loki bears his weight on his hand as he descends the submerged stairs, and Thor notes he is only slightly heavier than air to his long-trained muscles.

Thor steps back and leans against the wall. He has no further purpose here and he resigns himself to tracking the movement of the bar of soap over Loki's wet skin.

“Do not forget to wash behind your ears,” Thor teases.

“There is a spot I cannot reach.”

Thor will bet good coin on that. He licks his lips as he watches how Loki's new burden forces him to shift and strain in the water. So little, yet so fertile, a wet field begging for seed.

Unconscionably small, too slight to put up a resistance without seidr—did he play coy to the father?

Thor's hands tighten into fists.

 _“On my back,”_ Loki prompts. “Between my shoulder blades.”

Thor walks to the edge nearest Loki and kneels behind him to take the soap.

Loki pauses, holding the bar in the air before his chest. Thor's eyes follow his free hand as he places it on top of his stomach just below the water's surface.

“Where were you going when you saw me in the hallway?” he asks, then shifts his hips, making a quiet, soft sound at a feeling inside.

It takes Thor a moment to force his tongue to move. His head feels full of fog.

“I...do not remember.”

“Were you going to be the intrepid explorer today? Or revisit old stomping grounds with your friends?”

Loki turns his head, his unblinking gaze meeting Thor's before languidly descending to take in his slack jaw, his posture--the white-knuckled fist hanging by his side.

Thor takes a breath when Loki's eyes meet his again. Then Loki smiles, closes his eyes, and drops the soap.

~

He barely dragged himself away and when the Warriors Three complained of his tardiness, he admitted his mistake.

And it was his mistake. If only he could claim ownership of the one so deliciously filling out his little brother.

Returned from hunting and freshly bathed, Thor arrives at Loki's chambers in time to escort him to the feast of Dísablót in the great hall. Loki likes salmon, so Thor brings him back a plate of it and sundry dishes from the carving tables.

He sits beside Loki at an uncharacteristic choice of table: in a dark corner of the hall, far from the blaze of the great fire in the hearth, the braziers, and the torches. They are not with Thor's usual company, so he is able to keep interactions with their neighbors to a minimum.

Thor eats with muted enthusiasm, partially out of respect for Loki's listlessness and because the morsel he wants is one he cannot devour.

He glances over to see Loki looking out of sorts. Thor frowns and cups the back of his neck.

“How are you?” he asks, leaning in to be heard over the din.

“It's different now,” Loki murmurs without looking at him. He begins to turn away. “And it would be harder if I dispelled the illusion; then I would be reviled in Asgard again, just for a different reason.”

Thor lowers his hand to the small of Loki's back.

“I am still here; not all has changed.”

“You will go on quest again, marry, have heirs and a throne to distract you soon enough.”

“I had nearly all of that before you remember, and I still found the time to chase you across the Nine.”

Loki smiles softly at things he does not remember. Thor is relieved at the result of his conversational gamble—and if one squints hard enough and with a bit of mead to help, it does seem a pretty fable in retrospect.

“And I think the throne will sort itself out, without my involvement,” Thor admits. “So I shall have twice the time to hunt you down, if required.”

Thor tickles lightly at Loki's back and he wriggles, stifling a giggle and turning to him again.

“You should eat,” Thor encourages. “You need your strength.”

Loki pokes glumly at his plate while Thor tries to surreptitiously incite a brawl with the drunkards two tables below them by flicking grapes and nuts at their heads. Fond memories of doing this as a youth with his brother warm him more than the mead. Thor's success earns him a smile from Loki, as well as a few extra mouthfuls.

~

He leads Loki to a stone bench beneath an awning in the courtyard. They sit and Thor removes his fur mantle and fastens it about Loki's shoulders.

Now away from the excess of noise, people, and drunkennes, Loki appears a little improved. But his spirits seem to be falling the longer they maintain this silence, so Thor breaks it.

“If e'er I cross paths with the man who left you this way and abandoned you,” he growls.

“Don't.”

Thor slides his hand between the folds of Loki's cloak to grasp his hand.

“You are among the most clever and comely creatures in the Nine,” he says. “The defect is his.”

“Whatever man fathered this child likely does not share your feeling,” Loki murmurs.

“Well, at least we know his species this time.”

Loki sputters with laughter and slaps his shoulder. Grinning, Thor allows him a few shoves before grabbing him and hugging him as tightly as he dares.

“There's a smile, little imp,” Thor laughs, their foreheads resting against one another.

Loki's eyes glitter as he grins back at him, still catching his breath. His cheeks are getting pink from the cold, so Thor shifts him a little further out of the wind before letting him go.

“What transpired on your last quest?” he asks gently. “Were you forced? Were you wooed and abandoned?”

“Does it matter?”

“I wonder if it makes a difference to you.”

Loki's fading smile now disappears entirely.

“I don't know anymore, even then I wasn't… It's made me wonder if perhaps I'm not so clever as the Loki you knew.”

He buries his face in Thor's chest. “Hold me and the child. Pretend it's yours and you want us.”

Thor wraps his arms around him.

“I do not pretend, brother.”

~

Now within Thor's bedchamber, Thor's life has been reduced to a game of keeping his hands to himself. He is sitting on them like a greedy child as Loki settles upon his thighs.

Thor's darkening gaze slides covetously over his little brother's body, all the beauty he remembers as well as the new, his belly rounded full and heavy with a babe Thor wishes was his, wishes he could have had the pleasure of stuffing into his brother's gorgeous, tiny body.

The way of temptation is a quiet, gradual stupor, a soft fog ever creeping towards the landmarks guiding one's behavior, and hiding them one by one.

Loki hisses and cringes, his arm going round his belly at some unseen pain inside.

Thor shifts Loki closer to the fire in the grate beside his bed. “Is it the child?” he asks, his hand already stroking the muscles along the small of his back.

“I'm not certain,” Loki sighs, sagging against him. “Midwives told me childbearing has numerous discomforts.”

Then he becomes quiet. Thor brings a smile to his little brother's face with a kiss on his lips, pulling away just before he twists it into something unworthy.

Loki wraps his arms around Thor's neck, shifting until the side of his rounded belly rests against his firm abdomen. Thor bites his lip and takes a breath.

“And your feet?” he asks like a selfless gentleman, his free hand already pulling off the calfskin boots and massaging the little, white foot to distract himself.

Loki purrs appreciatively, stretching his legs and settling more heavily against him.

He gasps as one of Loki's arms descends to wrap around his heavy belly, his back arching slightly as he moans, as if the pleasure Thor is giving him reaches somewhere deep inside.

Thor stares down at him: Loki sitting happily in his lap like both he and the bastard in his belly belong to him, with his slender arms cradling his—their—babe, framing it, unintentionally drawing attention to how big with child he is despite the alluring smallness of his body.

Only six moons full. Thor shivers.

His eyes follow the movements of Loki's hands as he strokes the taut bulge.

“Give me your hand, brother,” Loki says, “that you may feel it.”

“No,” Thor grunts between gritted teeth. He cannot tear his eyes away and he knows he is panting like a base beast as he leers at his own kin.

Loki places one hand behind him, on Thor's thigh; he leans backwards and arches, making himself appear even bigger with child. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat as he shifts, his free hand supporting his belly.

Thor grabs him, hauls him up to kiss his lips as he gropes his brother's little body. He groans into Loki's mouth, drinking in breath and sensation deeply as he savors it. Thor scoops his hand beneath the solid roundness of his belly; pushes upwards to feel the weight, luxuriating in both the delectable feeling of it in his hand and Loki's appreciative sigh.

He readjusts his hand, palms Loki's expecting belly again, weighs it. Heavy. Appealing. He wants to make Loki heavier.

He rises and carries him to his bed; honor and kingly upbringing be damned, he wants his own brother like only an abomination can; wants to claim and breed and enjoy the evidence of his virility, debased and uncivilized, uncaring that he mates with his own kin. This minx cannot possibly fathom how dearly his big brother wants to devour him like the little morsel he is, to grope his heavy belly like it's his, his babe and his doing and his _wrong_ making Loki so delectable.

He gently places Loki on the bed and stands between his spread thighs. He leans down and Loki arches up for kisses and mutual abuse of their clothing. Thor plants his lips at the juncture of Loki's neck and shoulder, sucks hard, while his hands start shredding tunic and breeches because he cannot help himself. His hands and lips slide down to grope his taut belly once he is bare, while Loki still whines and struggles with the waistband of Thor's breeches he can barely reach.

It was Thor's intent to remain clothed—a naive barricade against temptation—but Loki makes a gesture and there is a flash of green, and Thor feels his heavy cock hanging freely in the air.

Their eyes lock beneath the sly tilt of Loki's lashes.

“Come, put that to use,” Loki croons, beckoning with his hand. “Now I know how.”

Thor eyes descend to the place between his brother's legs, finds—

“You've no—?”

Loki rolls his eyes. “What use have I for a cunt except when it's needed? But it is easier, you are right.”

There is another flash of green and Thor is staring at a swollen, new cunt beneath Loki's sac. He can feel its heat radiating out from inches away, calling a new series of pulses to his cock.

“You are too young and too little to lie with me,” Thor protests weakly even as his hand encircles the thickest part of Loki's thigh.

“Too little to be this big with your babe?”

Thor's eyes flutter shut as he helplessly palms his cock.

“Don't...don't call it that.”

But he draws his cockhead up and down the wet slit, watching the swollen lips part around him, feeling the drag of the slick folds against him.

“But you must, brother!” Loki cries, his hand squeezing Thor's cock. Thor groans; Norns, his hand can barely cover half of it.

“For what if you are right?”

This gives Thor pause. He blinks stupidly a moment, the conversation gradually coming back to him.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“What if I am too small to have this baby?” Loki confesses quietly, his voice laced with worry.

“You see these hips! Brother, _please!_ ”

It is not the rush of wet heat that arrests him, but Loki's cry. Thor looks down.

Oh. He succumbed.

**Author's Note:**

> Same handle on [Tumblr.](http://radiatorfromspace.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A70850KZ) if you want to support all the time and effort I put into entertaining you. :)


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